


and we're out here in plain sight

by liquidsky



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Actor Dan Howell, Alternate Universe, Author Phil Lester, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 22:17:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18860218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidsky/pseuds/liquidsky
Summary: Phil's an optimistic author whose science fiction novel is well on its way to becoming a film. Dan's an actor whose cynism toward love is nothing short of infuriating. It takes a while, but they find something to agree on.





	and we're out here in plain sight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluegraybucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluegraybucky/gifts).



> _huge_ thanks to [phinalphantasy7](https://www.phinalphantasy7.tumblr.com)/[lilactreesinwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilactreesinwinter) for beta'ing, she made this fic what it is now and i couldn't be more glad to have received such constructive criticism and help. 
> 
> the prompt options were "fantasy and mental health struggles" and "enemies to lovers like true hate kissing kinda thing and also theater or movies or entertainment industry things", so i took some aspects of each and ended up with this! i did kind of fail at including any hate kissing, if only because i couldn't wait for them to fall for each other. hopefully you'll enjoy the story anyway! 
> 
> the title is a line from _i know places_ by taylor swift.

Phil’s stalling. He’s perfectly aware of that, hunching by the edge of the snacks table with one too many mini-sandwiches crammed in his hand. It’s a new experience, and he’s never been particularly good with those, easily overwhelmed and often prone to excessive awkwardness, but he’s trying. 

From the corner of his eye, he watches the complicated-looking lighting setup and a few people from the crew stepping over cables and around a wide variety of filming equipment. Unceremoniously, he shoves one of the sandwiches in his mouth, eyes going wide when PJ turns to wave him over. He swallows the whole thing without chewing, but PJ’s already turned back to the camera by the time Phil’s made his way next to him. 

“It looks good,” Phil comments, though he’s not sure what he’s referring to. PJ gives him the kind of smile that tells him he’s aware of that, but thanks him anyway. Phil nods, “What scene are you filming now?”

“Eliot’s just about to find Hazel’s body,” PJ tells him. Phil feels anxiety start seeping through his body, weighing his stomach down. He must look troubled – PJ pats him on the arm, eyes warm. “You’ve read the script.”

“I have,” Phil agrees. It doesn’t feel like enough, and he's sure that Bryony would be happy to point out yet another one of his many control issues if she were here, but recognizing the problem doesn't make him any less stressed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re nervous,” PJ counters. “That’s ok, but don’t worry too much, we got this.”

“I know,” Phil says, even though he doesn’t.

“Dan’s really great,” PJ assures him, and Phil only _sort of_ believes him. It’s not that he doesn’t think Dan will do well. Or it is, a little bit – he's been trying to silence the voice in his head that keeps coming up with increasingly worrying scenarios and tell himself that it's not Dan he's worried about, but it's pretty useless. Phil hasn't met him yet, doesn't know him but knows of him, though even that is not that much. 

He’s only ever seen him play lead in romantic comedies, ones chock full of sensual kissing scenes and a lot of bright-eyed softness. While there’s nothing wrong with either of those things, he wants this scene to be perfect, to evoke the same sense of painful loss he experienced when writing it, _before_ writing it. It’s the most important one in the book, the one he’d poured his heart and soul into. He needs it to feel exactly as it should. 

PJ, who Phil now _sort of_ knows on account of them having met a grand total of four times before, knocks their arms together, an easy smile shaping his lips as he nods his head toward one of the doors across the room. Phil turns his face just in time to see Dan walk through, and is immediately struck with the weirdness of seeing live someone whom he had only ever seen online. 

The first thing Phil notices about Dan is that his hair is a lot darker than he’d imagined. It’s a silly little detail, but it still helps break the heartthrob image Phil had so carefully constructed in his mind. Dan Howell, tall and mighty, ruler of a kingdom of high fashion and cool tirades. In person he’s just a guy. A guy, covered in fake blood and bruises made out of eyeshadow and face paint, the charming line of his nose scrunched as he lifts one of his arms to scratch it with his wrist. Feet overly big, shoulders hunched, smile quiet. 

Phil can see how that might work, maybe. Dan as Eliot, eyes a warm, rich shade of brown, hands big and capable-looking. 

He hadn’t had any input in the casting process, much to his bitterness and Bryony’s amusement, but seeing Dan walk over to the middle of the room with practiced carelessness makes his heart clench weirdly in his chest. It might more than work, he realizes, watching the subtle way Dan’s smile edges into a smirk as he looks over to one of the crew members and says something too low for Phil to hear. 

PJ’s watching Phil when Phil turns to him, a look way too knowing gracing his features, and Phil has to resist the urge to fidget. “Fine, so he looks kind of like what I had in mind.”

“You’d seen him before,” PJ comments, and Phil nods. He thinks back to the nights he spent sat on the couch shoving popcorn down his throat and binge-watching Dan's movies and decides it might be in his best interest to leave that unmentioned. 

“Not like this,” he tells PJ, glancing back at Dan and the way his dirty jeans and jacket hang loosely on his body. The thought that Dan seems to embody all the things Phil had imagined Eliot to be fills him with the warmest sort of feeling, and when Dan stands up straight and starts making his way to them, Phil’s breath catches for a new reason altogether. 

“PJ,” Dan calls, looking at them with a question in his eyes. His gaze settles on Phil, and his eyebrows fly up. “And…”

“Phil Lester,” PJ introduces him. Dan's eyes go wide for a millisecond before he schools his expression into a neutral enough smile. 

“I’m Dan,” he says, lifting both hands to show the dark blood crusting around his fingers, “Nice meeting you.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Phil agrees. Dan’s face does something funny, his lips opening ever-so-slightly, eyes going just a bit wider. Phil smiles, or tries to, caught off-guard by the searching look that’s taken over Dan’s gaze.

“I’m a fan of your books,” Dan says. Phil hears PJ snort next to him, turns to shoot him a look only to find Dan’s beat him to the punch. 

“What’s so funny?” Dan asks as Phil squints at PJ. Dan turns back to Phil. “They’re good books,” he says.“Horrible fucking characters, but good writing,”

Phil pauses, then, in utter disbelief that Dan would just say that. It's blunt enough to feel almost like a prank, and he has to resist looking over his shoulder to check that no one's standing there with a camera to catch him make a fool of himself. He glances sideways from the corner of his eye long enough to realize that Dan seems to have meant what he said.

“Horrible characters,” he repeats, then, enunciating each word carefully as if he's only just heard them for the first time. 

Dan shrugs, “No offense,” he starts. “It’s just a bit much.”

“A bit much,” Phil muses, glancing at PJ for a second as if to confirm that he heard it correctly. PJ resolutely doesn’t meet his eyes, so Phil turns back to Dan, squinting at him. “How do you reckon?”

“Listen,” Dan says, all placating, like Phil’s somehow in the wrong for prompting some more specificity from the person who’s just called his characters horrible. Phil doesn’t budge, keeps his eyes steady on Dan. Dan sighs. “It’s too much angst, you know.”

“I don’t,” Phil tells him. “And it's eschatological fiction, there’s supposed to be angst.”

“It makes them look spoiled,” Dan argues, and Phil feels his left eye twitch, has to bite down on the impulse of pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek and looking truly indignant. “And weak, you’d think people would toughen up at the literal end of the world.” 

“Uh,” PJ interrupts, his voice strangled and very unlike him once he realizes that Phil’s not about to say anything. 

He’s staring at Dan – not hurt, exactly, though he can’t deny the sudden weight in his stomach. He’s not usually that proud a person, but he has never worked as hard on anything as he has on his novel. It's the result of his literal blood, sweat, and tears, and these characters have held him together through the worst of times over the years he spent writing it. Hearing someone criticize them so abruptly leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and for the first time in a while, he's lost for words. 

Dan's face does something curious, then, and he's parting his lips to speak again when Phil stops him.

“They’re plenty tough,” he settles for, voice quieter now that he's trying to contain his distaste. “Being emotionally vulnerable is not the same as being weak.”

“It's inconvenient,” Dan says. Phil has just about had enough of the feigned casualness coloring Dan's voice. “It makes for unnecessary conflict that would've been better having arisen from the plot itself.”

It's not that unreasonable a thought, Phil rationalizes, but the louder voice in his head insists on throwing rationale out of the window, and he feels his cheeks heat with annoyance. It's ridiculous that he's never once been on the receiving end of such preposterous commentary. He guesses he should be better prepared to deal with that seeing as he decided to make a career out of sharing his most vulnerable thoughts with the world, but it doesn't change that the comment is startling enough to nearly give him whiplash.

Phil pauses, lifting his eyebrows as obnoxiously as he knows how, “Maybe you're just stunted." 

He hears PJ suck in a breath, watches as Dan's eyes narrow and his neutral look bleeds into a scowl. “Sure,” he says. “That must be it.” 

“Dan,” PJ says, and Dan snorts uglily at him before meeting Phil's gaze. 

His eyes have gone serious, and Phil bites down on the apology threatening to spill past his lips. Dan started this, he shouldn’t dish it out if he can’t take it. Phil doesn't flinch from the downward curve of Dan's lips, and they end up caught in a bit of a staring match until PJ interrupts them by placing a hand on Phil's arm. 

When Phil turns to him, PJ gives him an awkward smile before turning to Dan. “Mimi's here, we're ready to film.”

Dan nods at him. “I'll catch you later,” he tells Phil, though he couldn't sound less excited about the prospect. Phil can relate.

“See you,” he says, feeling surprised by the lack of venom in his own voice. 

With a sigh, Phil unclenches his fists from where they're resting against his sides, trying not to wince at the entirety of the situation as he watches Dan and PJ walk away from him toward the middle of the room. 

–

By the next week, Phil has officially made up his mind to avoid Dan as much as possible during the rest of his stay on set. All three of their interactions since Dan so candidly shit-talked Phil’s novel have been stunted at best, and Phil’s not really looking forward to having to power through yet another cringe-fest. Besides, four weeks is hardly that long, and soon enough he’ll have memorized most of Dan’s filming schedule, so avoiding him shouldn’t be too difficult. 

Still, he watches from the corner of his eye as Dan, dressed in loose jeans and a tank top, takes a huge bite out of what he guesses must be a beet sandwich, judging by the way his lips go almost purple. His tongue darts out to lick them, and Phil rolls his eyes. 

He’s already reevaluating his opinion on Dan, nearing the uncomfortable conclusion that he is indeed as negatively otherworldly as Phil had made him up to be. He raises his eyebrows to himself when Dan takes another impossibly large bite of his sandwich and has to use his dirty hands to help the lettuce stay in his mouth.

It’s a Wednesday, and most of the cast is present on set, lounging around on chairs and leaning against every possible surface. Phil’s trying hard to not stare at anyone. Well, anyone except for Dan. He’d tried at first to drag his eyes away from the lines of Dan’s body every time they accidentally slipped over, but ultimately it just became too hard to resist.

It’s annoying how furious Dan makes him – he’s not a moody person by nature, and he’s dealt with plenty of obnoxious know-it-alls during his time at University – but Dan still stands out. Phil still wants to argue in favor of his characters, shove his novel and his words down Dan’s throat.It’s distracting enough that he keeps catching himself looking at Dan more than he should. It seems counterproductive to his mission of ignoring him, all this staring.

Across the room from him, Dan shoves the last remains of his sandwich into his mouth before stalking over to where a group of young actors is huddled together, laughing at something Phil most definitely can’t hear. 

Phil looks away from them, glances at PJ who is gesticulating wildly. PJ seems to sense that he’s being looked at and turns to give him a cheery wave. Phil waves back, feeling warmth crawl its way up his cheeks as he realizes that Chris has both of his eyebrows raised and is watching him wave at PJ with a speculative look. 

Chris, who’s playing Eliot’s love interest in the movie and seemed to be giving PJ a few heart-eyes too many during the past week, is probably Phil’s favorite person on set, weird as he may be. He talks a lot, Phil’s found, his northern accent familiar and always amiable, but he’s also kind of prone to excessive eye-contact, which, combined with Phil’s notorious lack of blinking, makes for a weird, frequently awkward combination. Glancing away from them, Phil resolves to stare at the different camera setups until filming begins, just so he doesn’t accidentally make meaningful eye contact with anyone else. 

It’s ten very dull minutes before PJ and the crew start moving, the actors walking to the middle of the room and getting in position. They’re filming inside a room today, a change of pace from the majority of the other scenes, all of which had been filmed outside in the scalding heat of Arizona summer. It seemed like the perfect location for an apocalyptic film, the scenery suggested by the production and promptly accepted by Phil, who had spent days on end playing Outlast. 

The scene they’re about to film is an ensemble one – there aren’t that many of those featured in Phil’s novel, mostly due to his well-established belief that the notion of solitude plays a pivotal role in eschatological fiction, but he figured there had to be at least _one_ in the film. His favourite part in every novel he’d read growing up was the relationships established between characters, and he’s explained more than once that he’d felt the need to include human connection in all of his writing. He hasn’t shared that he’s come to the conclusion that it is the sharp sense of loneliness that he’s felt throughout his life which has led his inability to leave his characters to experience complete isolation. Privately he sometimes wishes he’d have someone to talk to about that. Someone in whom he’d find shared experiences. 

This scene in particular, in which Eliot and his fellow survivors are planning a way to infiltrate the robot-ridden shelter where most of the remaining resources are left, is fairly simple and to the point. Phil’s not too nervous about it for once, trusting that PJ’s execution will perfectly match what Phil had envisioned when writing it. 

Curious, Phil leans back against one of the pillars, watches quietly as the scene starts playing out in front of him. They’re a good cast – mostly unknown actors with the exception of Dan, who Phil hates to admit has been giving his all in every performance he’s seen so far.

It’s a bit absurd, the honesty Phil has felt in Dan’s portrayal even as he insists that these characters, Eliot in particular, are terrible. Endlessly frustrating, too, because Phil _sees_ Eliot when Dan’s like this, profoundly in character, delivering each line with an astounding amount of precision and vulnerability. He’s good, and Phil kind of wants to throw something in his direction, feels rudely antagonized by the careful twists in his features and the soft warmth in his eyes. 

The scene went smoothly, Phil decides, when PJ yells the final “cut” after three long hours of filming. The tension in Dan’s shoulders bleeds out of him easily, and he stretches, raising his arms above his head in a way that makes his tank top ride up. Phil averts his eyes, focusing on Chris and his very obnoxious stretching instead. 

Chris, seemingly done with his odd array of moves, walks toward Phil with a huge grin in place.

“So,” he starts, and Phil gives him a smile. “Comments? Complaints?”

“It was perfect,” Phil states. “Exactly like I’d imagined.” 

“Glad to hear it,” PJ says, approaching from behind Phil. He stands next to them, hands shoved in his pockets, and Chris lists to the side, subtly inching closer to him, as Phil suppresses a grin. 

“A good day’s work, I reckon not all filming days should take as long from now on,” PJ says, “maybe the action scenes.” 

“Those usually take a while,” Chris agrees. 

“Funnest part to film, though,” says Dan.

Phil hadn’t noticed him arrive, but he pauses next to him with a calm expression, a large black hoodie in the place of the white tank-top he was wearing for the scene. He looks warm, and Phil’s immediately annoyed at himself for noticing. 

PJ makes a noise of agreement, “Yeah, they’re usually my favorite part as well.”

“Meh,” Chris says.Wiggling his eyebrows at Dan, he adds, “I like the love scenes better, myself.”

It sounds like a come-on, if a bit too humorous, and Phil half-expects Dan to glare at Chris.  
Instead he snorts, a loud laugh escaping his lips as he leans into Chris’ space to shove him to the side, “I’m sure you do.” 

Chris bumps his hip against Dan’s. 

“Obviously,” Chris agrees, “You’re kind of irresistible.” 

Dan grins, glances at Phil out of the corner of his eye. “Not sure everyone here agrees,” he says, and Phil frowns. 

Dan has some nerve to imply that Phil’s the problem here, as if Dan’s lack of common sense isn’t the reason why things have been so painfully awkward and stunted between them since their first meeting. It makes him pause, too annoyed to think of what to say next, and PJ clears his throat awkwardly when no one says anything. 

Chris laughs. “Couldn’t imagine why,” he tells Dan, rolling his eyes at him and shooting Phil an amused look. Phil squints at him, and Dan heaves out a sigh.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, but PJ interrupts him gently. 

“You and Chris should rest, we have a one hour interval before the next scene,” he tells them. Chris nods at him, grabs Dan by the hand to drag him toward one of the larger couches in the back of the room. 

Phil frowns at PJ. “Seriously?” he asks, and PJ shrugs as apologetically as he knows how. At least it’s nice to know that he’s not the only one aware of whatever the hell Dan’s playing at. 

“He’s sorry, probably,” PJ tells him. Phil scoffs, “He’s not the best at using his words, but he’s not a bad guy.”

“He’s rude,” Phil argues. 

“He was kind of harsh,” PJ agrees.

Phil's mouth falls open in disbelief. 

“Kind of harsh,” he repeats. PJ winces. “He called my characters horrible. _Horrible. _”__

__PJ scrunches up his nose, mouth opening around a grimace, “Yeah, that wasn’t really–”_ _

__“–That’s not even, he’s entitled to his thoughts or whatever, his wrong opinions, but it’s not like I asked,” Phil interrupts, words spilling out of him too fast for PJ to try and get a word in. “Who does that? Refraining from calling someone’s work horrible to their face–unprompted, might I add–that’s just basic courtesy,”_ _

__“You’re not wrong,” PJ assures him, and Phil shakes his head at him, eyes glossed over like he’s barely heard him._ _

__“I _know,_ ” he says, “And for him to imply that, what? I’m somehow being unfairly rude to him because I’m not falling over my feet to compliment him?”_ _

__“He didn’t–” PJ tries, doesn’t get to finish his sentence._ _

__“I’m not being rude either, by the way, I’ve been perfectly civil, we just don’t have much in common, it’s not my fault that our interactions always end up weird, he could make an effort if he’s that invested in us talking,.”_ _

__“Phil,” PJ says, louder than he intended, probably, but it’s not like Phil was looking like he’d ever stop talking. Phil pauses, mouth open, seems to catch whatever he was about to say next from midair, swallows around nothing as PJ nods at him, “Listen.”_ _

__Phil realizes, then, just how his endless indignant blabber might’ve come across. PJ’s friendly, but he’s not his friend, and Phil might have written the novel, but this kingdom is not his to rule, and PJ’s lips are currently curved downward in a frown that makes Phil’s palms start sweating. He feels awkward, then, out of place and slightly panicked._ _

__“Sorry,” Phil says, hoping his voice doesn’t catch on the wrong sounds, “I didn’t–that was unprofessional of me, I probably shouldn’t–”_ _

__“Phil,” PJ interrupts again, this time more gently, “It’s fine.”_ _

__“You really didn’t need to hear all that, sorry–” he pauses, unsure on how to expand on all the things he’s suddenly sorry for._ _

__PJ knocks their arms together, and Phil startles, “It’s fine, Phil, you don’t have to apologize,” he assures him. “I just think you and Dan might need to work this out. We can’t have an awkward work environment, and you’re still here for another three weeks.”_ _

__Phil nods–his presence is temporary, he knew that, but it dawns on him how much of his project no longer feels like his at all. It isn’t his anymore, probably, in more ways than just this, and he feels his shoulders drop. “I’ll try, PJ,” he says, “Sorry again.”_ _

__“Don’t worry about it,” PJ tells him, which is nice of him, but also pretty useless. Phil’s a worrier at heart, and the thought that he should be worrying about his next novel and instead is caught worrying about whether or not all these new people _like_ him leaves him unexpectedly wounded and exhausted. “You should rest, too, we have another scene in an hour, remember,” PJ says. _ _

__“Yeah,” he agrees, “You’re right.”_ _

__And he goes, flops down on one of the couches and opens his cellphone to start typing, already knowing full well that he won’t find much productivity at all for the rest of the day._ _

__–_ _

__Phil’s uncomfortable self-loathing streak, as it turns out, only lasts about four hours before it turns into anger. It’s not a feeling he experiences all that often, unfamiliar enough to leave his mouth sour, but now it seems to be all he can feel. He’s sitting down on one of the chairs originally placed there for the actors’ convenience, hunched forward to watch as Dan and Chris grip at each other in a makeshift bed._ _

__He still remembers exactly what he felt writing it, the reckless surge of power that had coursed through him as he wrote about these two men falling into each other so desperately. It was the first scene he ever wrote for his novel, at 19, having just recently pushed through the confusion only to find that wanting guys was part of himself too. He was scared so often back then, all his loneliness seeming even darker as he told himself he might lose his family as well once they found out the truth about him. Writing this scene, with its vivid descriptions and desperate yearning, he felt the bravest he’d ever felt. Getting the novel published and sharing it with the world felt like that too, like invincibility, as though there was nothing he couldn’t do._ _

__Leaning back in his chair, he allows himself to notice all the little details of the performance–Dan’s hands, huge on Chris’ bare waist, their faces inches apart, expressions solemn. It feels weird that the breathless joy he’s experiencing exists in the same space as the anger he’s feeling toward Dan, but it’s there. He wants to fight with him just as much as he suddenly imagines that the hands tracing patterns down Dan’s back aren’t Chris’ but his own, and it’s a surprising enough thought that he pauses, averting his eyes from the scene playing out in front of him to stare at his hands in consideration._ _

__That didn’t seem like a thought that could’ve come from his own mind, but somehow it had. Phil looks around him, sheepish, meets the eyes of another crew member and feels himself flush as he wonders if anyone there can read his mind. He knows they can’t, objectively, but it’s not like he knows what to expect anymore since apparently his own thoughts keep betraying him. He just imagined having sex with Dan, so really, anything’s possible._ _

__Scowling at himself, Phil gets up and stalks out of the room, leaving the scene behind him. It’s better if he doesn’t see any more of it, his thoughts are muddled enough as it is._ _

__He sits down on the street outside–it’s a warm night, thankfully not as stifling as the previous ones have been, but still warm enough that he chucks off his jacket, rubs his face to escape the prickle of the hot air._ _

__Dan finds him there._ _

__Phil has his eyes closed, leaning back on his hands, legs outstretched in front of him, and he doesn’t bother opening his eyes as he feels someone sit down next to him, guessing it’s probably another crew member, or maybe even PJ._ _

__“Didn’t like what you saw?” Dan asks. Phil’s eyes spring open. He straightens up, turns his head to look at Dan. He’s wearing a black t-shirt now, and his curls frame his forehead in a way that might’ve looked angelic if Phil didn’t know better. He tilts his head. Dan continues, “You left in the middle of the scene.”_ _

__“Thought you weren’t supposed to be paying attention,” Phil says, and Dan shrugs._ _

__“I can multitask,” he tells him. Phil looks away from him to stare straight ahead. “What was the problem, then? It didn’t turn out like you imagined?”_ _

__“There was no problem,” Phil says, and Dan shoots him a disbelieving look as he continues, “I needed the fresh air, is all.”_ _

__Dan grins at him, “Maybe it turned out too much like you imagined."_ _

__It’s suggestive, and sounds slightly mean coming from Dan’s lips, in his posh accent and bright voice._ _

__Phil glances at him briefly. “Don’t flatter yourself”_ _

__“I’m not. You’re the one who had to leave. I just want to know why,”_ _

__“Has it occured to you that maybe you’re not entitled to my motives?”_ _

__Dan balks. “Has it occured to you that maybe I’m just trying to be friendly?”_ _

__Phil turns to look at him fully, watches as Dan exhales, takes in the pink of his lips and the curve of his nose. He sighs, “Are you?”_ _

__“Yes,” Dan answers, right away._ _

__Phil snorts, leans back on his hands to look away from him and up at the sky, “I don’t believe you.”_ _

__Dan sighs. “Why not?”_ _

__“You haven’t really set the best precedent,” Phil tells him. This conversation feels kind of overwhelming already, almost too quiet but not quiet enough, sitting side by side in the warm air with no one else around them._ _

__“And you have?” Dan asks. Phil closes his eyes, can hear the indignant inflection in Dan’s voice well enough without needing to glance at him._ _

__“Sorry, am I the one who insulted your work? As far as I recall, it was the other way around.”_ _

__“I didn’t _insult_ your work.” Which is rich, seeing as he absolutely had. _ _

__“You called my characters horrible,” Phil argues. He hears Dan make a noise in his throat, feels curious to see how that must show in his face, has to resist the urge to open his eyes. He keeps them closed, feels Dan nudge his right foot with the tip of his boot._ _

__“Well, it’s not like it’s a lie,” Dan says._ _

__Phil’s eyes fly open. He wrenches his foot away from Dan’s, mouth opening and closing around nothing as he turns to look at him. Dan looks curious, mouth curved upward just a little, his eyes like he really doesn’t know how what he said could sound offensive._ _

__Phil stares at him. “Seriously?”_ _

__“You and your angst, mate. I just don’t get it. I know you said it’s the end of the world and that’s why, but it still feels like too much.”_ _

__“If you don’t like the characters, why did you even read the book? Assuming you’ve read it and are not just talking out of your arse.”_ _

__“I _have_. It’s a great book, I told you that.”_ _

__“But,” Phil insists. He doesn’t know why he does it–it’s not like he’s looking forward to listening to more of Dan’s crap about how his characters aren’t good or whatever high-brow opinions he’s on his way to offering, but he thinks he would regret not knowing. He watches Dan, the way his jaw works as he seems to search for words._ _

__He waits._ _

__Finally, Dan settles for, “You seem to make such a point about solitude, the whole novel, about how all we need to survive is ourselves, but then you just keep–your characters keep clinging to one another, always mourning even as you suggest they are used to being alone. And Eliot most of all, I mean, he’s very obviously the hero and yet he lets himself fall for James like that? Then he keeps whining about it, about all of it.”_ _

__It’s the most Phil’s ever heard Dan say, and it’s surprising. His avoidance of him was enough to ensure that they wouldn’t have a chance of a long enough conversation, but he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t watched Dan this past week, unconsciously cataloguing his interactions with other people to find out whether it was just Phil he seemed to have a problem with. With everyone else, Dan seemed fine. Polite enough, kind enough, smiling and laughing at all the right times like he was constantly reading off an invisible cue card. He’s seen him be charming and funny and lovely, but he hadn’t really seen him be honest. This, all these things Dan’s just said, they all sound like honesty._ _

__Phil looks at him, “That’s the point. We should be fine on our own. We might not _need_ anyone else to survive, but even that is debatable since humans are social animals, but the point is that we want it anyway. Other people, connection, we crave them even if we might not need them.”_ _

__Dan nods, impassive, until the hint of a grin starts playing in the corners of his mouth. “See, that’s what I don’t like about it.”_ _

__“The idea that we might want connection?” Phil is unsure if he’s understanding him correctly._ _

__“I think it’s futile. People are bound to disappoint you, and if you don’t need them, why go through the trouble? Especially in your novel, connecting means they’re bound to suffer, and they do, so why bother? It makes them look–”_ _

__“Weak,” Phil interrupts. “So you’ve said.”_ _

__“Yeah,” agrees Dan. “So I’ve said.”_ _

__“And you don’t think it’s worth it,” Phil questions again. It’s too cynical a perspective to be something Phil could agree with. For all the loneliness he’s experienced in his life, the few moments he’s spent surrounded by people who filled him with a sense of belonging are enough to make him understand that he will always think it is worth it._ _

__Dan watches him for a minute before answering, eyes very obviously taking note of the lines of Phil’s face. He feels the familiar heat of a blush settling on his cheeks, has to bite the inside of his mouth to stop himself from speaking too soon._ _

__“Haven’t had anything change my mind yet,” Dan tells him. “So no.”_ _

__Phil doesn’t answer. He’s not quite sure what he should say, even as he has half a mind to just tell Dan that he hopes he’ll have it someday. It feels invasive, and Phil’s still kind of mad at him, still annoyed, but he doesn’t want to create more of an argument, and the challenging jut of Dan’s chin suggests that he might have it in him to do just that._ _

__“Ok,” says Phil, and Dan’s gaze slides off of him. He turns to stare at the parking lot, and Phil watches his profile, the array of freckles on his cheek. Dan sighs, and Phil drags his eyes away from him._ _

__“Still think I’m rude?” Dan asks, humor in his voice._ _

__Phil snorts. “Kind of, yeah.”_ _

__“And here I thought I had changed your mind,” Dan says. He doesn’t sound offended, and Phil doesn’t feel all that hurt anymore, but still._ _

__“You’re welcome to try again another time,” he tells Dan. Dan shoots him a searching look, slightly wide-eyed, before grinning brightly in a way Phil had never expected to have directed at him._ _

__“I’ll hold you to that,” promises Dan._ _

__Phil feels his insides clench, something funny simmering in his stomach, almost bubbly. Phil gives him a small smile, and Dan gets up from the ground in one long, awkward move. Phil feels–not _endeared_ , but maybe something similar enough. He glances up at Dan, who’s dusting off his palms. _ _

__“I should probably go inside,” Dan tells him. “I’m kind of starving,”_ _

__“Ok.” Phil says, unsure on why exactly Dan’s giving him any sort of explanation._ _

__“But I’ll see you tomorrow.”_ _

__Phil nods at him, heart feeling stupidly out of place. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”_ _

__–_ _

__On Saturday, three days after Phil’s first civil interaction with Dan, they stumble upon a free day._ _

__Filming is going well, according to PJ and the rest of the crew, and they’ve had enough days of working terribly long hours to feel appreciative of a break when it’s offered to them. Phil, who has managed to get in a good amount of writing now that he isn’t spending every single second of every day fuming over Dan’s rude streak, is sat outside under the scorching sun, layer upon layer of sunscreen piled on his skin._ _

__It’s a beautiful day, and he feels unexpectedly _inspired_ , noticing little details of their trailer lot left and right, people-watching with a sort of serene thoughtfulness as cast and crew members alike walk past him. He hasn’t seen Dan yet, and is firmly reminding himself that he’s not looking forward to seeing him at all. _ _

__They’ve been better about each other, is the thing Phil’s getting at. Their stunted interactions have been at least somewhat tempered by more natural conversation. They seem to actually _agree_ on things when they’re not discussing Phil’s work. It’s weird, almost laughable–at least according to Chris and PJ, who keep shooting them _looks_ all the time, though PJ usually looks proud and accomplished that they’re getting along, while Chris’ general demeanor edges more into something like wiggling eyebrows and smirking. It doesn’t bother Phil, exactly, but he’s also hoping Dan hasn’t noticed the way Chris keeps staring at them like he thinks they’re prime time television. _ _

__Phil’s still thinking idly about Dan when he sees him. Out of costume, he looks too much like a regular guy, someone you’d see on the street: hair a mess of untamed curls, dark circles under his eyes, the barest hint of stubble shadowing his chin. He’s wearing color, for once, starkly different from his usual all-black ensemble. It looks nice, makes him seem soft and approachable – his t-shirt fits him loosely, goes well with his well-worn denim shorts._ _

__With a smile, he plops down on the chair next to Phil’s, and Phil scrambles to act like he wasn’t just analysing his every detail. It only half works._ _

__“Writing again?” is Dan’s question when he glances at Phil’s writing tablet. Phil pulls it closer to his body, angling the screen away from Dan’s line of vision._ _

__“Yeah,” Phil says, “I’m already kind of behind schedule, I’m trying to get as much writing done as possible while I’m here.”_ _

__“Thought maybe this was some sort of vacation for you,” Dan muses, grinning softly at Phil. It’s his quietest sort of smile, Phil’s notices, probably with a little too careful observation._ _

__“I wish,” he snorts. “I can’t even think the word vacation, my editor might teleport here and kill me on the spot.”_ _

__“Tough guy?” Dan asks. He turns entirely toward Phil as he talks, body shifting to fit on the chair. He moves one of his arms to pillow his head, a pose that looks very casually striking. Phil averts his eyes from the relaxed expression in his face._ _

__“Tough girl,” he corrects. “Bryony’s the best, but she’s also completely evil.”_ _

__“How’d you get assigned her, then?” says Dan. He sounds genuinely curious, eyes bright to match the amused curve of his lips as he waits for Phil’s answer._ _

__“I didn’t,” Phil tells him. “She’s my best friend, and she had some experience in the publishing industry, so when I decided I wanted to try publishing I just asked her to be my editor.”_ _

__“And she said yes,” Dan guesses._ _

__Phil smiles._ _

__“She said no, actually.” It’s funny, watching Dan’s surprised expression, features animated as he leans into the story. “We’d been best friends for years, but I’d never told her about writing before. I guess she kind of thought I’d be shit at it, so she said no. I can be bad with words, you know, when I’m speaking.”_ _

__“Never noticed that,” Dan says, the lilt in his voice playful. Phil finds that he doesn’t mind it._ _

__“Yeah, well,” he continues, “her excuse is that she thought working together would ruin our friendship, but I didn’t really buy it.”_ _

__“I take it hasn’t ruined it.”_ _

__“No,” Phil agrees, smiling to himself as he thinks of her, bright pink hair and sunny laughter. “Still best friends. And we’ve gotten quite good at keeping things separate, so it’s fine.”_ _

__“Must be nice, sharing everything like that.”_ _

__“It is. We grew up together, sort of. In the ways that matter.”_ _

__Dan hums. Phil feels his skin prickle, hot from the sun but even warmer from the wondering he finds in Dan’s gaze when he meets his eyes. He looks considering, strangely captivating as he chews on his bottom lip. It’s a new look on him, one Phil takes in with zeal, stores in his mind for safe-keeping._ _

__“What about you?” he decides to ask, and Dan’s eyes fall down to peer at the floor between them._ _

__“What about me?” he repeats, even as Phil knows he understood the question. He wonders if he should change the subject, ask something else._ _

__Ultimately, though, he’s too curious for his own good. “Anyone like that in your life?”_ _

__“Nope,” Dan says. It’s casual, and that is of itself pretty telling. Phil waits for him to elaborate. “I’ve never been that good at making friends, I guess.”_ _

__“That doesn’t seem true.” He’s always surrounded by people, Phil’s noticed, just as he’s noticed that Dan doesn’t seem to initiate any conversation, but he’s always assumed it was out of excess of amiability rather than the lack of it._ _

__“It is,” Dan insists, and Phil knows better than to argue. He doesn’t seem to know enough to school his features, though, and Dan rolls his eyes when he notices the somber look molding Phil’s face. “It’s fine, I have acting, that’s like having a thousand different friends.”_ _

__“That doesn’t sound like skewed logic at all,” Phil says, following Dan’s cue._ _

__Phil thinks he sees the slightest hint of a frown before Dan smiles at him, the kind of smile that sets his teeth on edge, makes his palms sweat–it’s mocking, a little mean, and entirely unsurprising. “I don’t recall asking for an analysis, Mr. Angst. Now lighten up, pity doesn’t become you at all.”_ _

__Phil doesn’t respond, instead turning away from Dan to stretch his legs out and survey the other trailers spread around the lot. He feels Dan’s stare to the side of his face, refuses to look back at him. It feels like a step back, somehow, out of order and off-beat to the rhythm they seemed to be moving to these last three days. He sighs and hears Dan’s loud exhale too._ _

__“We need to get better at talking.” Dan sounds apologetic enough that Phil recognizes the comment for the olive branch that it is._ _

__He takes it. “If only you didn’t make it so hard,” he says, but he’s smiling now, and his good nature must show in his voice._ _

__Dan kicks his foot lightly. “It’s my fatal flaw,” he agrees._ _

__“Being insufferable?” Phil jokes. Dan kicks him harder. He turns to look at Dan, watches the way he crosses his arms in front of him, rests his head back against the chair–and so they fall back into rhythm. Phil feels something funny curling around his limbs, too warm. “You’re not, by the way,”_ _

__Dan smiles. “Thanks, Phil.”_ _

__—–_ _

__“We should do something.” Dan tells him, materializing next to him by the side of the building. He looks like–well. He looks like a mess, Phil admits, eyeing his dirt-covered arms and smudged face. His hair is sticking up in several different directions, and maybe he’s never looked more like the Eliot Phil had pictured in his mind._ _

__“Like what?”_ _

__“Like hang out. After filming? Everyone’s going out for dinner tonight, were you planning on going?”_ _

__Phil wasn’t–his only plans were staying in, eating his weight in frozen pizza and ignoring all responsibilities to drown himself in _Octopath Traveler._ He looks at Dan for all of three seconds before deciding that he might as well go with the truth. _ _

__“No, I–” Except he doesn’t get to finish, because Dan’s taking an eager step forward, leaning against the same wall as Phil._ _

__“Great,” he says, overly loud, and Phil is suddenly very confused. “Me neither, do you like video games?”_ _

__“I–yes.”_ _

__Dan nods._ _

__This whole conversation is going a bit too fast for Phil’s brain to follow. “I brought my PS4 to the trailer.”_ _

__“Nice. We can play in yours, then. Do you have any food?”_ _

__“Frozen pizza?” Phil suggests, just now catching up to the weird rhythm Dan’s speaking in. It’s fast and slightly unlike him, but Phil’s also not about to question it–he wants to hang out with Dan, even if there’s a chance they might kill each other before the end of the night._ _

__“Perfect,” says Dan. “I have a bunch of chocolate and some Ribena, so we have a three-course meal already.”_ _

__“Are you counting Ribena as a meal?” Phil doesn’t mind, just wants to make sure. “Did you bring it with you? I don’t think they sell it here.”_ _

__“Obviously. And we’re playing _Octopath Traveler_ , by the way, hope that’s alright with you.”_ _

__Phil stares at Dan. It’s one of those moments–they’ve had a few of them lately, these absolutely ridiculous instants of compatibility that leave him lightheaded and nearly breathless. They don’t last too long, but they’ve been happening enough that he’s starting to get suspicious. He squints. “I’m going to assume you’re not spying on me.”_ _

__“Fair assumption. Why is that?”_ _

__“Those were my plans. _Octopath Traveler_ , I mean.”_ _

__Dan’s eyes go wide for half a second before his expression goes very carefully neutral. Phil can see the corners of his lips pulling up softly, like they’re moving against Dan’s will. He feels the same way._ _

__Dan allows the smallest of grins to stretch itself on his face. “Great minds think alike.”_ _

__Phil smiles back at him. “That they do.”_ _

__They stand there, leaning against the same wall, facing each other with matching grins and a surprising amount of ease until Dan’s name is called, startling them both. He jumps away from the wall, straightens his back in a way that Phil’s come to notice is very unlike Dan and all Eliot, gives him a quick wave before walking toward the voice._ _

__Phil watches his back as he goes, mind filled with a cacophony of helpless endeared thoughts before he decides to make a run back to his trailer and clean everything up–he’s been in the habit of leaving his clothes all over the place, and while it doesn’t bother him, he doesn’t want Dan to take him for the slob that he absolutely is._ _

__It annoys him a little, how much he wonders what Dan thinks of him, how he constantly tries to picture the version of him Dan must have in his mind. He wants to know all these things, and there’s a small sliver of frustration still left over from Dan’s comments about his characters that has him wondering if he comes across as too emotional, too vulnerable._ _

__The relentless organizing of his bedroom takes him two long hours – he has to sweep, which is not something he thought anyone actually had to do in trailers, and wash his dishes, and fold laundry, and put away the mess of notes he’d been scrabbling down in random pieces of paper throughout his time there. It’s a whole process, shoving all his clutter into the different available metal cupboards and making his bed with enough precision so that he can properly pass as an adult. He’s not sure why he’s doing it – the bed. Dan won’t even see the bed, there’s absolutely no reason why Dan would ever have to see the bed or walk the short way to the world’s tiniest bedroom, and yet. Phil sighs to himself, he needs to get a grip. And also to light some scented candle and crack the windows, so he does._ _

__He does all that, repeating the same mantra over and over again so he can convince himself he’s not being at least kind of pathetic, and goes to sit outside the trailer while the candle burns. He should shower. Should he shower? Is Dan showering?_ _

__He’s showering. He’s barely sat down on the steps before he’s leaping up again and cramming himself inside the shower stall. It’s small–he’s a bigger person than most, freakishly tall by most people’s standards, and he’s only half used to how tiny the shower is. He has to hunch and curve and it’s fine most days but the nervous energy suddenly thrumming in his body makes it very hard for him to _fit_. Needless to say, it’s a quick shower. _ _

__But what matters is that he’s clean, and he even has time to sit down in bed and pretend to do some writing before he hears Dan knocking on his door. The sound makes Phil’s stomach jump, then drop back down again when he opens the door to reveal Dan standing outside, wet hair still dripping down the collar of his gray t-shirt, a plastic bag filled with various mini chocolate bars and the box for Octopath Traveler all crammed in his hands._ _

__Phil smiles at him. “What Ribena flavor do you have?”_ _

__Dan climbs the last step to sneak past Phil into the trailer. He looks around, openly curious, and Phil watches him with his hands clasped behind his back, leaning against the closed door._ _

__“Blueberry,” he tells Phil. “Why do you not have the air-con on?”_ _

__“Wasn't that hot.”_ _

__Dan pulls a face, eyebrows up like Phil just said something unimaginable._ _

__“I can turn it on if you want.”_ _

__“Yeah,” he says, and Phil does. He doesn't use it much, weirdly enough, and his lips twitch with humor as he notices Dan wrinkle his nose at the stale air that puffs out of it. “Where should I put these?”_ _

__He holds up his bag, which Phil sets down of the counter next to the door. Dan's looking around again, peering behind Phil to the rest of the trailer. Phil doesn't turn to follow his glance, can't remember if he left the bedroom door open or not. Dan looks back at him, meets his eyes with a funny sort of smile on his lips._ _

__“Where’s your PS4?” he asks, and Phil gestures to the sofa in front of the television._ _

__The console is set messily on the TV stand, and he kneels in front of it to put the blue-ray in. It's unexpectedly endearing–most people don't use physical game copies anymore, and Phil tries to imagine what Dan's house must look like, if he's the kind of person to have a shelf full of games like Phil has of books._ _

__He sits down on the couch, across from the television, but still pretty close. The trailer is cramped, it feels way too small when it's just him inside. Now, with Dan, it seems even tinier, and Phil snorts quietly as he pictures Gandalf walking into Bilbo's home._ _

__Not quietly enough that Dan doesn't hear it, apparently, because Dan's watching him with an amused expression when Phil looks up._ _

__“What,” he asks, and Dan's grin grows wider._ _

__“Nothing.” says Dan, flopping down next to Phil on the sofa, and handing him one of the controllers. “Ready to play?”_ _

__“Are you?” Phil throws the question back at him, eyebrows raised in what he hopes comes across as a challenging expression._ _

__Dan rolls his eyes, startles Phil by leaning into his side and knocking their shoulders together. “Ready to kick your ass.”_ _

__Phil's side feels warm where Dan touched it, and he turns to the television, smile giving way to a small smirk. “Bring it on.”_ _

__He does. They play for about three hours, hands slightly greasy on the controllers as they insist on shoving inordinate amounts of pizza and chocolate in their mouths throughout every match, and Dan's winning by a landslide._ _

__Phil's become sort of addicted to the shrill sound of his cackling, heart clenching as he watches Dan throw his head back, eyes crinkling at the corners, laughter bursting out of him easily. It makes him laugh, too, relaxing back against the thin cushions of the sofa._ _

__It's been an easy night—easier than he had thought it was possible to have with Dan, given their frequent and seemingly inevitable arguing. They haven't argued yet, surprisingly in tune with one another as they talk in circles around nothing in particular, Phil slowly getting used to Dan's sharp cacophony of cursing and screaming, his mocking of Phil's snorting laughter, the hunch of his shoulders and speed of his hands. Phil's taking notice of all the small things, feels charmed and content to be at the receiving end of Dan's endless chatter._ _

__“Tired of losing?” Dan asks, glancing sideways at Phil when he realizes that Phil hasn't been playing in a little while._ _

__“Tired in general,” Phil tells him, stretching his arms above his head, sliding a few inches down on the sofa. He spreads his legs wider, and Dan glances at him. Phil meets his eyes, gives him a small smile._ _

__“D'you want me to go?” Dan says. Phil doesn't–he doesn't want the night to end, is not even that tired at all, just tired of playing. He wants to play something else, maybe, a game in which he'd get to watch Dan, pick up on his mannerisms, study the lines of his face._ _

__“No,” he answers. “I don't mind watching you play.”_ _

__Dan keeps him caught in his gaze a little longer before nodding. “If you say so.”_ _

__He turns back to the screen, unpausing the game and giving it his full attention._ _

__Phil doesn't bother looking at the television, looks at Dan's hands instead, at the quick movement of his fingers, he slides his eyes up his exposed arms, up to the gentle slope of his shoulders, lingers on the crevice where they meet his neck, bites his lips at the smattering of freckles on his jaw._ _

__He's always been startingly aware of Dan's attractiveness–he's beautiful in a way that doesn't leave space for doubt, his features sized in a way that makes him look constantly endearing, sweet. Now, though, it seems that awareness is no longer enough to describe the confusing mess of feelings twisting his insides. He wants to reach out and touch, trace the shapes of him with the pads of his fingers._ _

__He averts his eyes quickly when Dan glances at him, pretends to be focused on the game even though he has no idea what's going on anymore. Phil counts to thirty in his mind, and when he looks back at Dan, he sees he's blushing. He's noticed, then, Phil's staring. Phil feels himself flush, too, turns his eyes back to the television and tries his best to catch hold of funny warmth simmering in his stomach._ _

__Dan plays for about another hour before pausing the game. He stretches his legs out in front of him as far as they'll go in the small space they have, looks at Phil with a quiet, almost fond smile, and Phil looks back at him. He yawns, and Phil feels compelled to, too, and Dan's giving him the warmest of looks by the time he opens his eyes._ _

__“Now I should go,” he says, and Phil nods at him._ _

__He stands up, and Phil follows him. This time, Phil thinks, the tiny trailer doesn't feel small enough–he's caught in the desire to be pushed closer to Dan, to share his space, have their hands meet somewhere in the middle. He leads Dan to the door, leans against the side of the counter. Dan braces himself with one of his hands against the door, pushes closer to Phil to give him a half-hug._ _

__Phil's surprised, almost too surprised to return it, grateful that Dan waits him out gently, his body curved toward Phil patiently. He hugs him back, still not more than half an embrace, but it leaves Phil breathless anyhow._ _

__Dan is the one to open the door, and he walks the few steps down quickly, waving back at Phil before disappearing to his own trailer. Phil watches him go, words lodged in his throat awkwardly like he might ask Dan to stay just a bit longer. Thankfully, he doesn’t, instead just focuses on his silhouette until he’s too far to be seen._ _

__Inside the trailer, Phil flops down onto his bed. He doesn’t change, lies there wearing his denim shorts and nice t-shirt, eyes wandering to the pizza boxes they forgot to throw out before Dan left, then at the clock placed next to the bed. 2:15 a.m. It’s late. He looks up at the ceiling, stares at nothing for a good five minutes before peering down at the clock again. 2:20. Late enough that he should probably not do what he’s about to, and he tries to reason with himself, comes up with four to six reasons why he should absolutely not call Bryony right then. In the end, he does it anyway, reaches for the phone and dials her number by heart._ _

__She answers the call around the fourth ring, when Phil’s already considering just turning off his cellphone and pretending he doesn’t exist. He doesn’t do too well with feeling overwhelmed, is the thing, and his skin is still tingling in the most obnoxious of ways from the closeness of Dan’s body to his earlier. It’s possible that he needs someone else to tell him to get a fucking grip._ _

__Her voice sounds throaty with sleep as she greets him. “This better be good.”_ _

__Phil winces. “Hi, Bry.”_ _

__“What time is it?” she whines. He can picture her, eyes closed and mouth pinched, familiar and safe unlike the feelings bubbling in his chest. “Are you dying? Have you killed someone?”_ _

__“It’s Dan,” he announces._ _

__“You’ve killed Dan?” she asks. He’s too eager to answer, kind of had expected her to read his mind,_ _

__“Yes,” he says, then, “Wait, what? No.”_ _

__“You haven’t killed Dan,” she repeats, and he pulls a face at the ceiling._ _

__“Obviously,” drawls Phil. He hears her sigh on the other end of the line._ _

__“Not that far-fetched, mate,” she tells him. “Didn’t you call me like fifty times to talk shit about him last week?”_ _

__Phil feels his cheeks go warm. “Eight times,” he corrects, perfectly aware that it’s not that much better._ _

__So he might’ve been a bit more indignant than necessary, it’s not like anyone could blame him, he reasons, also not like anyone has to _know_. PJ doesn’t, and Chris definitely won’t. The messy progression of his feelings for Dan will be known only to him, and maybe to Bryony, if she ever lets him say what he intended to with the call. _ _

__“About seven times too many,” Bryony says. Phil hears the rustling of fabric, figures that she must have sat up. “So, what’s up? He pissed you off again?”_ _

__“Not really,” Phil says, pauses to test out the words in his head before allowing them to walk past his lips. “The opposite, I guess.”_ _

__“I‘m not following,” she says, and he sighs. “He’s been nice to you, then?”_ _

__“He has,” Phil agrees, very carefully._ _

__“Why’re you calling me about that?” asks Bryony. Phil doesn’t answer right away, can tell the exact second it seems to dawn on her what this is about, hears her sharp intake of breath, “No.”_ _

__“Well,” he starts, only to be interrupted by the sound of her laughter._ _

__“Seriously?” she asks. “Oh my god, Phil.”_ _

__He gives her a minute. “It’s not like I did it on purpose.”_ _

__“You like him,” she states, and he hums in agreement. “I’m not opposed to that, exactly, but can I ask how? I mean, you _did_ call me 67 times with elaborate plots to murder him.”_ _

__“There was no such thing as murder plotting, Bry. Maybe like, light mangling? At most?”_ _

__“Pretty sure you mentioned some cannibal ritual at least once, mate,” she says, then snorts loudly. “Funny, now the only thing you want to eat is his–”_ _

__“– _Don’t_ finish that,” Phil squeaks. She bursts out laughing. "You are the worst.”_ _

__“You called me at 2 a.m., what did you expect? All coherent thoughts will have to wait until reasonable hours,” says Bryony, and he closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand._ _

__“Fine. I’ll call you again tomorrow.”_ _

__“Will you be able to sleep?” The humour in her voice way too clear, very obviously making fun of him._ _

__He blows out a breath. “I’m not some blushing maiden, Bry. Haven’t started hyperventilating just yet.”_ _

__It’s a lie–he absolutely has, in all factuality, feels off-balance and lightheaded from the mere memory of Dan’s laughter and the long stretch of his legs. It’s pretty ridiculous._ _

__“You’re a liar,” says Bryony. “But it’s late so I’ll let it slide.”_ _

__“Much appreciated. I’ll call you again tomorrow.”_ _

__She hums in agreement, “With details.”_ _

__“I don’t have any details just yet,” he warns._ _

__“Another lie,” Bryony guesses. “Sleep well, loser.”_ _

__“You too,” then, “Thanks for answering.”_ _

__“I always do.” She disconnects the call._ _

__He's left with his thoughts, and, as he eventually fades out of consciousness, the last thing in his mind is the memory of the exact sound of Dan's voice._ _

__–_ _

__The next week and a half are a blur of getting in as much writing as humanly possible, walking around with his tablet constantly attached to his person, typing in a couple hundred words at every pause. It's good. Productivity isn't necessarily hard to come by, but true inspiration is, and he's been feeling it more and more as the days pass._ _

__Filming seems to be going well, too, and everyone's very clearly in high spirits. Especially Dan, whom Phil has been spending more and more time with. It's kind of funny, how being around Dan has easily become Phil's favourite part of every day—he’s addicted to his smiles, can't seem to help wanting to see him all the time, make him giggle and curse and roll his eyes. Dan's charming, makes Phil's palms itch with the desire to reach out and touch him, to curve his fingers around Dan's arms, to nudge their feet together, press his knees to Dan's when they're sitting next to each other._ _

__Which they have been, quite a lot. Phil's found that Dan will always choose to sit right next to him, even when there are other spaces available, bigger than the ones beside Phil. Uncaring about the lack of space, he plops himself next to Phil, leans into his bubble. Phil's grown used to it, his warmth and the familiar smell of his shampoo, and he finds himself constantly grasping for excuses to be pulled a little tighter into his gravity._ _

__Now, standing next to PJ as he directs the cameras, all he can think of is Dan. It’s another one of these moments in which Dan’s all Eliot, and fondness blossoms in Phil’s chest at the inspired performance Dan’s delivering today. Phil had even cried earlier, though he’d very insistently deny that if anyone were to confront him._ _

__They’ve been filming for the better part of three hours, but neither PJ nor the rest of the crew look remotely tired. Phil kind of wants to sit down. He needs to work out more, probably, or at all, seeing as just standing in place has him edging into exhaustion. He’s started planning a retreat to one of the nearby sofas when a third person pauses next to him and PJ. He turns his head to find Chris, wrapped in a black robe and wearing bright red flip flops, smiling at him with his usual sly demeanor._ _

__Phil smiles back, scrunches up his nose in confusion when Chris raises his eyebrows to give him a suggestive look._ _

__“What,” he mouths. PJ turns to briefly glare at them before turning back to the camera. Phil pulls a face at Chris and follows him outside to where a few other crew members are working._ _

__“So,” Chris starts, leaning against the wall. Phil wonders how it’s possible that Chris is not actively dying inside the robe, seeing as Phil already feels his t-shirt dampen though they’ve barely been outside a minute._ _

__“So?” Phil prompts, surreptitiously eyeing Chris’ flip flops. He looks eccentric–somehow the fact that he _always_ looks eccentric doesn’t lessen the effect of his unexpected clothing choices. Phil kind of envies him. _ _

__“You and Dan,” Chris says, and Phil exhales, looks up at the sky as if asking for strength. Chris waits him out, a funny twist to his features making him look particularly judgemental._ _

__“What about me and Dan?” Chris’ expression turns amused._ _

__“You’ve been hanging out a lot.” His voice sounds innocent, and Phil can see through him in an instant. He stares at Chris without speaking._ _

__Chris sighs. “Come on, you can’t fault me for being curious!”_ _

__“Seriously? We’ve been hanging out a normal amount.”_ _

__“Yeah, but you used to look at each other like you were both hoping the other would choke, so you see how that could seem suspicious.”_ _

__He’s not wrong, exactly, but Phil didn’t think he had been that open about his distaste. Fine, Bryony had known, and PJ, and in retrospect maybe a few people from the crew, and even Dan, but it’s not like it was that obvious._ _

__“It was super obvious,” Chris adds. “Now you’re suddenly best mates, though, and I’m just wondering what’s up with that.”_ _

__Phil’s come to the conclusion that Chris is a nosy guy by nature, because they definitely aren’t close enough for him to be implying all of this. If anything, Chris is closer to Dan, and Phil suddenly wonders why Chris isn’t asking Dan about all this if he’s so curious. Then, he wonders if he already has, if he’s just fishing, if maybe Dan has said something to him and it’s why he’s so insistent in his questioning._ _

__It just about gives him a headache–Dan himself is hard enough to read, Phil doesn’t need to add Chris to the mix._ _

__His friendship with Dan, constantly humming with an underlying layer of what Bryony has taken to calling “inevitable thirst attacks”, is a point of much contemplation for Phil. He knows Dan doesn’t have many close friendships, if his clear cynicism on the topic is anything to go by, and he doesn’t want to spook him by making him carry any of the weight of all of Phil’s many expectations._ _

__He looks at Chris, trying to decide what answer he feels comfortable giving him. It doesn’t take long. “We’ve made up, turns out our disagreement wasn’t all that big.”_ _

__Chris squints at him. “He didn’t seem to think you thought so.”_ _

__Phil shrugs, “Well, I do, so it’s fine.”_ _

__Chris watches him for a long moment, chewing on his bottom lip and assessing him. Phil wants to squirm, unsure of what exactly is going on in this conversation._ _

__“Good,” Chris says, finally. “I know he can be a bit weird about connecting, but he seems happy now that you’ve been hanging out more often.”_ _

__It dawns on Phil that maybe Dan hasn’t said anything after all, and this is just Chris, a mix of worry and curiosity behind his words. He’s not sure how he thinks Dan would react to knowing they had this conversation. From the look of it, Dan doesn’t take too well to feeling as though he’s being patronized, and he seems the exact kind of person to see whatever Chris just did as an odd display of condescension._ _

__“I’m glad,” Phil tells him. Worried or not that Dan might see Chris’ harmless meddling as offensive, he is happy, can’t help the quiet thrumming in his bones at the thought that Dan might enjoy him as much as he enjoys Dan. “He deserves good friends.”_ _

__“That he does,” Chris agrees easily. He leans with his back entirely against the wall, then, and Phil mimics him, both of them turned to stare at nothing in particular and bask in the overwhelming afternoon heat._ _

__Phil drifts off, lost in his thoughts about whether Dan might not want anyone else to know just how much they’ve been hanging out together, going back and forth between his many Dan–related turmoils. He’s thinking back to the gentle slide of Dan’s hand on his as he passed him his plate the night before when the door between him and Chris opens, revealing a disheveled Dan._ _

__He startles upon seeing them, very obviously looking from Chris to Phil with a small, curious frown on his sweaty face._ _

__“Uh, hi,” he says, and Phil straightens up almost unconsciously. Chris snorts. Phil shoots him a glare._ _

__“Hey,” says Phil. His voice comes out softer than usual, which makes him want to shove Chris to the side so he won’t just be there. “Have you guys wrapped up for the day?”_ _

__Dan moves closer to him, and Phil takes a small step to the side so Dan can lean next to him on the wall, both of them across the door from Chris. He stands close enough that his hand brushes against Phil’s when he puts his arms down to rest them behind his body._ _

__“Not yet.” He glances at Phil quickly, then at Chris. “What are you guys doing out here?”_ _

__“Talking,” says Chris, and Phil thinks he sees Dan’s mouth curve downward quickly before it flattens back to something impassive._ _

__“Okay,” Dan says, very slowly, tilting his head slightly. Phil wishes he could wish Chris away just then, but clearly he can’t. Chris shoots Dan a shit-eating grin, way too friendly, and Phil expects Dan to tell him off, instead finds that Dan smiles back at Chris with a grin that doesn’t seem at all fake. Their dynamic is hard to follow, Phil thinks, when Chris stops smiling at Dan and just continues smiling in general, rolls his shoulders back, and moves swiftly to open the door._ _

__“I should go inside,” Chris says, “the robe is kind of killing me.”_ _

__Dan nods at him._ _

__Chris meets Phil’s eyes, lifts both of his eyebrows in a way that looks kind of challenging, and Phil rolls his eyes back at him._ _

__“Bye,” Phil says. Chris snorts loudly before walking through the door and closing it behind him._ _

__Dan turns to Phil, then. “Chris, man,” he says. Phil thinks Dan’s whole demeanor might very well rest on whatever Phil chooses to say next. Dan leans his shoulder on the wall, his body slightly angled toward Phil._ _

__“He’s kind of crazy,” Phil settles for. Dan’s smile takes over his face. He even dimples, looking thoroughly satisfied. Phil grins back, relaxes against the wall, lists a little closer to Dan._ _

__“He is,” Dan agrees. “Pretty great, but, you know.”_ _

__“Yeah,” says Phil, because he does know. He wonders again whether Dan would consider Chris a friend, reflecting on Dan’s weird relationship with needing people, and sighs. Phil almost wants to ask if Dan considers _him_ a friend, but it’s not like there’s any way to raise such a question without immediately starting some kind of argument. _ _

__“How did the scene go?” Phil decides to ask, when it’s obvious that Dan doesn’t plan on saying anything. He likes the quiet, somehow it’s never quite awkward when it’s just the two of them, but he finds that he likes the sound of Dan’s voice even more. It’s only mildly troubling._ _

__“We had to do a few takes before it turned out like PJ wanted it to. But it was pretty good.”_ _

__That makes Phil happy. Realizing that PJ’s vision is very similar to Phil’s is one of the nicest things of getting to spend time on set. It makes him worry less, feel less anxious–he doesn’t need to stress when PJ’s guaranteeing that his story will be told as Phil thinks it should. He’s still having a harder time than expected to let go of the idea that it’s _his_ , but maybe understanding that it’s something he _has_ to let go of is enough already. _ _

__“Good,” Phil tells him, and Dan grins. “It’s one of my favorite scenes.”_ _

__The look Dan gives him makes warmth crawl upward all the way to his cheeks. It’s knowing, and he can’t tell when exactly knowing started to feel so intimate._ _

__Dan’s eyes are playful. “That’s the least surprising thing you’ve ever said.”_ _

__“You giving me shit for having feelings is also pretty unsurprising.”_ _

__Dan snorts. “I just meant that it’s a very you scene, mate. But if the shoe fits…”_ _

__“I’d argue that all scenes are me scenes seeing as, you know, I wrote them,” Phil says, even though he can kind of see what Dan means. “But let’s hear it, how is it a me scene, then?”_ _

__“Come on.” When Phil raises his eyebrows, Dan narrows his eyes. “The incessant brooding? The crying? Having Eliot literally confess his love for James right when James isn’t in the room?”_ _

__“You have a problem with romance, I get it.”_ _

__Dan splutters, “I do _not,_ ” his voice going ridiculously high. _ _

__Phil grins at the indignant lilt in his words, and Dan glares at him._ _

__“You sure make it seem like you do.” He doesn’t know why he’s decided to push it, but the soft blush settling on Dan’s cheeks makes him want to insist on the matter. “Wasn’t that what you said? That it’s futile? Inconvenient?”_ _

__“Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”_ _

__Phil’s heart seems to skip ten beats at once, only to restart faster than ever. He widens his eyes almost unconsciously, suddenly flustered. He holds Dan’s gaze, watches the careful tilt of his head, the blush high on his cheeks._ _

__“Have you?” he asks, and his voice comes out quieter than he meant it to._ _

__Dan doesn’t take his eyes away from Phil’s, and Phil gets to see it as Dan swallows audibly, hands brushing Phil’s where they’re next to each other leaning against the wall. The soft drag of Dan’s fingers against his sends a frenzied thrill up his spine, and he feels almost weightless, as though he might just float away if not for the anchor of Dan’s skin on his._ _

__Dan opens his mouth, and time seems to slow down–his whole world seems to narrow to the words on the tip of Dan’s tongue, but he doesn’t get to hear them. They both startle as the door flies open with a loud banging noise and Chris pokes his head out, giving them both a curious look._ _

__“PJ’s asking for you,” Chris tells Dan._ _

__Dan nods at him, turns back to Phil to give him an unreadable look before walking past Chris back inside the building._ _

__Phil’s left with his heart in his throat, standing by the door with what must be a clearly overwhelmed expression twisting his features. Chris looks at Phil, then past the door and back at him, worried._ _

__“You alright?” he asks Phil, and it would be nice to know the answer. It's a simple enough question, but Phil doesn't feel like he does._ _

__“Well, figure it out. PJ's asking for you, too,” says Chris, when Phil doesn't answer. “Think he wants your input on something.”_ _

__He turns and walks back inside then, and Phil follows, hoping he can hide his tangled mess of feelings long enough to get through the rest of the day._ _

__–_ _

__“How do I know if Dan likes me back?” Phil says into the phone._ _

__On the other end of the line, Bryony sighs. “What happened?”_ _

__“We had a moment today.” He's spread all over his bed, having shoved his pile of fresh laundry to the side, staring at the ceiling and trying not to vibrate out of his skin._ _

__He may or may not have run home after PJ had called “cut” for the last time of the day, not directing a single word at anyone else before leaving the room. He feels overwhelmed and off-kilter–he's never had this before, is the thing. He has written about love and yearning and passion a thousand times but never once felt it himself, the heavy curl of it in his bones, the cloying taste of craving another person lodged in the back of his throat. He is fine one second and hyper aware of his feelings for Dan the next._ _

__Feelings he didn't even know he _had,_ and now are apparently all he can think of. He tries to do the math in his head, calculate an estimate for when exactly it was that his light infatuation turned into whatever the fuck _this_ is, this sharp sizzling in the pit of his stomach. He feels it everywhere, spreading around like wildfire, the sudden desire to press himself as close to Dan as their bodies would allow. _ _

__“What does that mean?” Bryony asks, and he tries his best to come up with words to explain._ _

__“You know how I told you he was cynical, right? About love?” He hears her hum her assent before continuing. “He kind of said he's changed his mind.”_ _

__“About love,” she repeats._ _

__He nods even though she can't see him._ _

__“Yeah,” he says. It's silent for all of three seconds before she honest-to-god shrieks—he has to hold the phone away from his ears until she stops._ _

__“ _Phil,_ ” she says. _ _

__He hears in Bryony's voice all the things he wished to hear, the stark confirmation that he's not going crazy, that the moment really was just as charged as it felt. “I know,” he tells her, letting his lips stretch comfortably around a smile._ _

__“What are you going to do?” Her voice is full of excitement. He almost feels like bursting into laughter._ _

__“I don't know yet. What do you think I should do?”_ _

__“Tell him. Obviously you should tell him.”_ _

__Phil wants to, but, “I can't yet. I'm not sure he's ready to hear it.”_ _

__He's right about that, he thinks. Though Dan has admitted to a change of mind, Phil doesn't think he's ready for whatever comes next. He’s not even sure if he's reading this right, even if all signs point to the same direction._ _

__“I'm not telling him yet.”_ _

__“But you're doing something,” she guesses, from the tone of his voice. She knows him, and he smiles to himself._ _

__“I'm doing something,” he agrees. He doesn't know what just yet, but he'll figure it out._ _

__“Good,” says Bryony, “That's enough for now.”_ _

__–_ _

__As it turns out, his version of doing something ends up being more along the lines of “asking Dan to hang out in very non-specific terms”._ _

__He mulls over several different ideas over the course of the next four days, one more extra than the next, and can't seem to settle on anything. Dan is the same with him—Phil had half expected their moment outside the filming building to change something, but so far it hasn't. Dan is still Dan, alternating between too loud and too quiet, still charming and funny and occasionally annoying in a way that just makes Phil like him more. He doesn't understand how it's possible, that some of the things that made him seem so obnoxious to Phil now only seem to amplify his endearingness._ _

__Whatever the way, it's happening, and they're sitting together on one of the couches, a few different sandwiches between them, glasses of water balanced precariously on their thighs, and Phil feels so perfectly content and almost blessedly inspired that his fingers itch to reach for his tablet, even knowing that he'd probably come up with nothing more than a loud litany of words all describing the lines of Dan's back and the curve of his nose. He can't stop noticing him–all his words lately have been dedicated to thinking about Dan, and that's as sweet as it is frustrating._ _

__He watches Dan, who has shoved an entire sandwich in his mouth and is currently looking every bit like a cartoon chipmunk, and he wants to tell him. Or ask him. He wants to say _something_ that will drag them both back to that moment four afternoons ago when Dan had said what made Phil's entire private universe turn on its axis. _ _

__He doesn't. Instead, he reaches for one of the sandwiches and takes a small bite, chewing quietly. Dan looks at him and his face does something weird as if he's trying to frown, but the effect is lost with all the food in his mouth._ _

__Phil swallows first. “What's that face for?”_ _

__“You're making me look like a caveman here,” Dan complains once he's swallowed his sandwich. Phil laughs softly, and Dan's voice turns whiny. “I'm serious!”_ _

__“Take smaller bites then,” Phil tells him. Dan pouts. It's cute. That and the demanding tone of his voice making something shift curiously inside Phil. He swallows around nothing, feeling warm all over._ _

__Dan doesn't seem to notice. “I'm hungry,” he explains, voice still very much high-pitched._ _

__Phil rolls his eyes at him, fondness gripping tight to all of his words. “Don't worry, you don't look like a caveman.”_ _

__“Thanks.”_ _

__“Theodore might sue you for stealing his look, though.”_ _

__Dan gives him an incredulous look._ _

__“Caveman beats chipmunk. I take back what I said,” he complains, and Phil laughs._ _

__“It looks cute,” Phil tells him._ _

__Dan's rebuke comes too fast to have been properly thought out._ _

__“Your mum's cute.”_ _

__Phil laughs. “I’m not giving you her details”_ _

__Dan snorts too._ _

__“Wasn't asking, mate. I happen to have my eye on someone else, wouldn't be fair to her.”_ _

__Phil feels his stomach sink at Dan's words. It wouldn't be fair to her. He tries so hard to look impassive that his face starts feeling heavy._ _

__“To the girl you have your eye on?” He has to ask._ _

__“To your mum,” Dan clarifies, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. Phil exhales, hopefully not too obviously, lifts his glass of water to his mouth to stall until he can think of what to say next. Dan continues, “The _guy_ I have my eye on wouldn't take well to competition, I reckon.”_ _

__Phil coughs out his water–it spills down his shirt and some of it sprays Dan in the face, and he's ready to climb up the side of the building and throw himself off it before Dan cackles, loud enough that some of the crew turns to peer curiously at them._ _

__“Holy fuck, mate,” he says, lifting his shirt to his face to dry himself. Phil coughs a few more times, cheeks aflame, and Dan keeps laughing. “Was that that surprising?”_ _

__Phil gasps for air before pulling his t-shirt slightly away from his torso, and when he looks up, Dan's very obviously watching his hands. He meets Phil's eye, sliding his gaze slowly up his body, and Phil goes back to wanting to shrivel and die._ _

__“I don't know, uh. Is there a good answer to that?”_ _

__Dan, red from laughing so much, shrugs. “I don't mind either answer, to be honest.”_ _

__Phil nods. “Then not really, I guess. Just caught me off guard.”_ _

__“Even though you knew already?” Dan places his glass of water and the two leftover sandwiches on the arm of the couch so he can move closer to Phil._ _

__Phil does the same, pulls one of his legs up so his knee is pressed against Dan's._ _

__“I didn't _know,_ ” Phil argues. _ _

__He hadn't, he had thought so, hoped so, wished so, but he hadn't known. And now he does. He resists the urge to grin, still looking back at Dan with what he hopes looks like an appropriately supportive expression._ _

__“But you kind of thought so?” Dan asks. There's something shyly hopeful stored in the low pitch of his voice, and Phil nudges his knee against Dan's more firmly. Dan presses back._ _

__“I kind of thought so, yeah,” he agrees._ _

__Dan smiles, dimples showing, eyes bright. “Good.”_ _

__It feels charged again, and Phil wants to say something that is going to be perfect, no room for misinterpretation, but the second he opens his mouth Dan's beating him to the punch._ _

__“Do you wanna come over tonight and play Crash Bandicoot?”_ _

__He does, and it might not be the romantic evening he'd had half a mind to propose, but it feels very _them_ –more than proper wining and dining ever would, Phil reckons, smiling to himself and at Dan before nodding. _ _

__“Yeah,” he agrees, “Pizza again?”_ _

__Dan hums, “How do you feel about sushi? We could have it delivered to set.”_ _

__“Sounds great to me.”_ _

__“It's a date,” Dan tells him, before launching into a semi-intelligible rant about Crash Bandicoot's secret level that has Phil's voice rising to meet the excitement of Dan's._ _

__The bright way Dan smiles at Phil when he voices his own thoughts about the level is by far the best thing Phil's seen all month._ _

__–_ _

__“Do you ever wonder what other people think of you?” Dan asks, breaking the silence that has fallen over them after finishing the last level on the game. They're sitting next to each other, elbows touching, knees touching, feet touching, and Phil wants to slide even closer to Dan, press the entire side of his body against him. He doesn't, instead turns his face slightly to look at Dan as his face contorts into a frown._ _

__The silence is good, comfortable in a way that is starting to become familiar, but hearing Dan's voice is better, especially as it frames his midnight musings for Phil to share in. Dan's looking ahead, eyes only half-open, and Phil is caught once again by the softness he finds in Dan's features._ _

__“Probably more than I should,” Phil admits, and Dan glances at him briefly before closing his eyes completely, head falling against the wall behind the couch._ _

__“Doesn't it bother you? That people can see you and just decide what they think of you. What you are.”_ _

__It gives Phil pause. He's always been tall, and almost offensively clumsy, and he comes across as awkward and odd most of the time. He's always been hyper aware that people always notice him but hardly ever see him, or maybe just see a fraction of him and regard that as the whole. It used to bother him more when he was younger, the constant trying to calculate what image others would construct of him inside their minds, and he had found himself falling into the same thought spiral when he'd first met Dan, but now it's just. It's gone back to being as close to a non-issue as it can be. He can't control it, and he's learned that he's better off refraining from even trying._ _

__“Not anymore,” Phil tells him. “It used to when I was younger. I spent a lot of time trying to make sure that I'd fit in, you know.”_ _

__“And now you don't?” Phil finds that Dan's opened his eyes and is looking at him, eyes searching, like Phil might hold the answer to all questions in the universe. It might've been unnerving weren't it so captivating._ _

__“Nah. All I can be is me. People can take it or leave it, but it's all I have to offer.”_ _

__Dan watches him, chewing on his bottom lips with something thoughtful sparking in his gaze. “I should be more like that.”_ _

__“Eh. Maybe, but you're in the public eye a lot, and I'm not, so it makes sense that you'd worry about it more.”_ _

__Dan nods. “I just feel like it really fucking upsets me that people think they _know_ things about my own life more than I do,” he blurts out. _ _

__“Like what?” Phil's turned his body almost completely toward Dan now, his legs up on the couch and curled under his body so he can lean his head on his arms and peer at Dan while he speaks. Dan shifts too, mirroring Phil's pose so they're facing each other._ _

__Dan shrugs. “Everything.” Then, “That I'm damaged, somehow. It bothers me that things happen and people will know about it and come to their own conclusions as if it happened to them.”_ _

__Phil doesn't know what Dan's referring to—it sounds like there's definitely something, with his eyes narrowing slightly as he finishes his sentence. Phil doesn't know what the something is, immediately wonders if he should._ _

__“People want to relate to you, maybe that's why,” he suggests. It's not quite what he wants to say. What he wants to ask is _what_ exactly are the things that happen, but asking might mean Dan shuts him out again, might mean that he's another person trying to allocate specific damage where there is none. Phil doesn't want to risk ruining this thing they've built up. _ _

__“People should stop,” Dan retorts. He sounds frustrated enough that Phil doesn't respond right away, waits until Dan exhales, seeming weary. “It just feels as though sometimes I'm holding back from doing what I want to do because I'm scared of what other people might think if they find out.”_ _

__“We all are,” Phil tells him. “Scared, I think. Of things going wrong. Even of things going right. Unfortunately there's no way of keeping everything just for ourselves, people care about what happens to us whether we like it or not. I mean, maybe not always on such a big scale, but most of the time there's at least one person who does, so it's kind of impossible not to be vulnerable.”_ _

__“I hate that.” But Dan’s voice lacks the fervor it had earlier. He sounds contemplative again, more subdued._ _

__“Me too,” Phil agrees, speaking more quietly to match Dan's tone._ _

__They go back to silence again, a different kind—it feels just as much like companionship as it had before, but it's not as lighthearted. Phil wants to take Dan's hand in his, intertwine their fingers, drag the careful look away from Dan’s face so he can hear his bright bursts of laughter again._ _

__He takes in the soft fan of his eyelashes against his skin now that his eyes are closed. All these things about Dan, it hasn't been a month and he feels weirdly caught up in him, constantly drowning in every aspect of Dan he gets to discover, wishing to catalogue his thoughts and features and every hitch of his breath and beat of his heart._ _

__Not for the first time, he finds himself overwhelmed by his feelings for Dan._ _

__“Phil,” Dan calls. He doesn't open his eyes, and Phil gets to see his lips start curving up at the edges, a smile blossoming on his face._ _

__“Yes?”_ _

__“Thank you,” he says, quietly. “For listening.”_ _

__Phil's hand moves on its own accord, then, nudging Dan's, brushing their fingers together. Dan turns his hand, palm facing up, and Phil traces the lines of his hand with the pads of his fingers._ _

__“Any time,” he tells him, and Dan's smile grows warmer._ _

__–_ _

__As with all things in life, everything goes well until, very suddenly, it doesn't._ _

__It's the third day of Phil's final week on set and he's been feeling more and more anxious by the second. It's weird that it's gone by so fast, that he arrived there feeling so out of place and now feels as though he's part of the crew. He's grown used to PJ's odd musings and Chris’ poorly timed jokes, finds that he's regarded warmly by most of the cast, knows most of their lives in surprising detail._ _

__He doesn't want to leave, is the thing. Not the set, but most of all not Dan._ _

__They haven't talked about it—about anything, really, not about Phil's infinite infatuation, or about how they've grown impossibly closer over the course of five weeks, or about how Phil's leaving in four days and Dan is staying in America for the better part of six months. They haven't talked about any of the things that keep Phil up at night even when he's so tired he feels it in his bones._ _

__They have, however, talked about literally everything else. Dan seems to have endless thoughts on any and all things, and Phil, who also has them but hadn’t been much accustomed to sharing, finds that it’s the easiest feat in the world, allowing himself to be pulled along into different discussions, watching as Dan’s eyes go brighter and his voice pitches higher the more excited he gets. Though Phil has Bryony, his family and a few good friends that he’s kept over the years, he’s always thought about connection as something that takes time to establish, a commitment that requires patience and maintenance. It’s true, he recognizes, maybe not so much about the time but about the patience, but he finds that it feels almost effortless with Dan._ _

__They’ve settled into a comfortable routine: spending time together during filming breaks, Phil writing on his tablet while he watches from the sidelines as Dan and the rest of the crew work on each scene. Each night they have dinner, either in Phil’s trailer or in Dan’s–which Phil has found is almost impeccably organized, minimalistic except for the array of black clothing occasionally littered around the bed and sofa._ _

__Sitting with their legs pressed together, they discuss the universe, and the people they grew up with, what they find upsetting about current politics, but also what makes them happy. They share the events that shaped them into who they are today, or at least most of them. Phil has things he won’t share, and he’s sure Dan has them, too, evident from the few moments in which they resort to silence, lulls in conversation that feel more solemn than serene. Phil doesn’t mind them. He reckons they have time, feels unexpectedly confident about the future._ _

__Which is why it’s surprising, then, when he walks into set to find Dan glaring daggers at Chris, the lines of his shoulders rigid as he says something Phil can’t hear from the distance. He looks very obviously uncomfortable, and Phil approaches with a sinking feeling in his stomach only to see Chris lift both of his hands up in a placating gesture,_ _

__“–just saying I’m happy for you,” Chris is saying, giving Dan a very befuddled look. “We all thought… After Beth–”_ _

__“Chris,” Dan warns. It’s a voice Phil’s only heard from him once or twice, back when they had first met and all they could do was dig at each other. “What the fuck did you tell him?”_ _

__“Tell whom,” Phil interrupts, pausing next to them with a frown. He wants to place a hand on Dan’s arm, to touch him in one way or another just to let him know he’s there. Chris’ eyes widen at him, and Dan’s frown curves even deeper when he turns to look at Phil._ _

__“I didn’t,” Chris says, and Dan brushes his hands off when Chris tries to touch his shoulders. “I wouldn’t–Dan, come on.”_ _

__“Of course this would happen,” Dan says. It’s a sad comment, and Phil is confused enough to try to touch him even as he just saw Dan brush Chris off. Dan dodges Phil’s hand with a swift movement, eyes stormy, and Phil takes a step closer to him._ _

__“What’s going on?” he asks. Chris looks at him, opens his mouth to speak only to be cut off before he can say anything._ _

__“Seriously? I told you I didn’t–you knew that I don’t like–” He pauses, seems to run out of words. Phil looks at him, unsure of what to say, and Dan continues. “Why would you tell them?”_ _

__“Tell them what? Dan, what’s going on?”_ _

__“Dan, he didn’t–” Chris starts._ _

__Dan turns his head sharply to scowl at Chris, snaps “I don’t believe you. Can you go? Please?”_ _

__“Dan,” Chris begs. Phil has no idea what’s going on, with Chris’ voice catching on his words like that and Dan’s shoulders stiff, posture oddly menacing._ _

__“Please go,” he asks, and Chris pauses, glances at Phil quickly before nodding at Dan, walks past them without looking back._ _

__As soon as they’re alone, Dan’s shoulders sag, as though the fight is seeping out of his body through every pore, leaving only the shadow of sadness behind._ _

__“Dan,” Phil repeats, peering at the miserable twist of Dan’s features in confusion. “What’s going on?”_ _

__“You told them,” Dan says again, and Phil doesn’t know what he could’ve told Chris and whoever else, only knows that he hasn’t. “I told you that I didn’t want people to know things about me and you still–”_ _

__“I haven’t,” Phil stops him. “I don’t know what you think I told Chris, but I haven’t.”_ _

__“Yeah?” Dan scoffs. “Then how come they are talking about it? That they’re happy for me, that I’m so _lucky_ to have someone who likes me again after Beth. How would they know, huh? If you haven’t told them.”_ _

__“I haven’t told them a thing, Dan. And I don’t–who’s Beth?”_ _

__Dan laughs. Not loudly, not his usual laugh, the one with dimples and the crinkling of his eyes. It’s dry, this time, mean-spirited enough to make Phil’s stomach sink even deeper down his body. “Now you’re a liar, too. Very nice, Phil.”_ _

__Phil bristles.“I’m not fucking lying, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”_ _

__“ _Please_ , everyone fucking knows it. And I thought it didn’t matter, you know, it didn’t matter if you knew because you wouldn’t feel sorry for me. I should have known.”_ _

__“I don’t feel–" Phil sighs. “For fuck’s sake, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. I haven’t told Chris a thing about you.”_ _

__Dan scoffs again, laughs the same snotty laughter, and Phil feels heat building up his spine, his palms going clammy. He’s not a fighter, has never been, but he’s also never been a liar, and the nasty edge to Dan’s voice raises his hackles, makes Phil want to match him in tone._ _

__“Yeah, what about us, then?” Dan suggests. “You haven’t told them that it’s lucky for me that I met you? That we–”_ _

__“I wouldn’t say that,” Phil interrupts, voice hard on purpose, louder than usual. “And it’s not like there’s anything _to_ tell.” _ _

__The weight of the words dawn on him as soon as they leave his mouth, and he sees Dan flinch, eyes widening minisculely. Phil feels regret immediately start curling around his throat, but it’s not as though he can take it back. It hangs in the air between them, heavy and sorrowful, and Dan’s eyes seem watery when he meets Phil’s gaze._ _

__“Okay.” His words have gone back to sounding like they’re his, quiet in a way that makes Phil’s heart clench uselessly around nothing. “I probably got confused. Sorry I thought–it wouldn’t be the first time.”_ _

__“ _Dan._ _ _

__Dan’s nodding, not to Phil but to himself. Phil feels as if he’s watching a free fall, it doesn’t seem like there’s anything he could say to stop the gears from turning in Dan’s mind, and he wants to grab his hands, keep him in place so he can reach inside him and grab his words back. “I didn’t–”_ _

__“It’s okay,” Dan says. “I was just confused, and it’s okay.”_ _

__“Dan,” he tries again, finds his own voice coming out of his lips very quiet._ _

__“We’re filming again soon.” Whatever sadness Dan was carrying seeming to have been bottled up deep. He sounds fine, in a way that’s just practiced enough for Phil to know it isn’t real. “I’m going to go freshen up for the scene, I’ll see you later.”_ _

__He walks past Phil, then, and Phil watches him go, feeling for all of the world as if he might just break down and cry._ _

__–_ _

__Phil can't stop thinking about it. He hangs around the set for less than five minutes once filming starts. It's as happy a scene as it gets, the one they're shooting, and Dan looks perfectly in character every time Phil's gaze slides over to him, which is often._ _

__He can't seem to rid himself of the heavy feeling lodged in his throat, and maintaining even the barest hint if a smile feels too hard a task to accomplish._ _

__He flops face-first down on the bed the very second he's inside his trailer. Phil considers texting Bryony, reckons that will only end in him crying himself to sadness–induced sleep, and though that does sound somewhat appealing, it doesn't seem like the best use of his time. So he reaches for his laptop and opens Google instead._ _

__Phil shouldn't be doing it–it’s a breach of trust, probably, but he can't stop himself from typing in Dan's full name, followed by the word “Beth”._ _

__Beth, he finds, is a 5’9” blonde with unreasonably silky hair and blue eyes, and she's featured in a good number of candid pictures of Dan, her posture startlingly different from his. They seem to match in style, though, her outfits frequently just as black and slightly futuristic as Dan's._ _

__Beth and Dan look good together, is the thing. It makes his palms sweat and his insides twist uncomfortably, and he's so distracted by a particularly arresting picture of the two of them holding hands that he nearly misses the headline in large font right under the photo._ _

__He frowns as his eyes scan over the words, feels his entire body grow suddenly cold when he realizes why Dan was so uncomfortable with being seen as damaged. It feels unfair, and he immediately regrets his search. It's personal, and sad, and he wants nothing more than to go back in time so he can never say the words he'd uttered to Dan. He deserves better, Phil thinks, but Phil no longer knows how to make it so._ _

__He closes his eyes against the pain in his heart, decides to call Bryony after all._ _

__–_ _

__Phil doesn't talk to Dan for three days. They’re long days, filled with many hours of staring at the wall and thinking about every single moment they’d shared over the course of the past month. It hurts in a way that is almost unexpected, missing him. He misses every little detail–his shrill cackles, his freckles, the softness of his hands whenever they brushed against Phil’s._ _

__He thinks a lot, too, about what he wants, doesn’t find it at all surprising to find that what he wants is Dan._ _

__He lounges around the trailer, watches some of the filming from afar, talks to Chris and PJ about a myriad of random subjects. Neither of them ever mentions Dan. Phil wants to know about him, wants to ask, keeps looking at him even as he tries not to, like his eyes have forgotten how not to follow him wherever he goes._ _

__Phil catches himself watching his movements often enough that he decides to leave the set for the day, walk back to his trailer._ _

__He stays in bed, looking up at the ceiling, his thoughts never straying far from Dan. He tries writing, tries listening to music, tries closing his eyes and falling asleep. He doesn’t succeed. He tries to stop thinking about him for at least one second and finds that his brain just won’t allow it._ _

__In the end, he’s failed enough that he doesn’t want to try anymore. He _wants_ to commit Dan to memory, to recall every little inflection in his voice and his walk, and how the way he looked at Phil makes Phil feel like he was drowning._ _

__The realization sits in his brain for one, two, three minutes. It feels heavy, and he leaps from the bed to change out of his pajamas, heart in his throat, hands almost shaky. He’s trying something different–Phil walks to the door with enough to resolve to move mountains, wrenches it open with too much force._ _

__Dan’s standing on the other side._ _

__He looks beautiful, wide-eyed at the sight of Phil, his cheeks flushed, hair wild, shoulders straight. Almost defiant, and Phil wants to run his hands through his curls, wants to drag his fingers down the sides of his face. He stares at Dan and Dan looks back._ _

__“What are you doing here?” His voice sounds weird, so he clears his throat. Then, “Dan,” he says, just as Dan breathes out Phil’s name, too._ _

__Their voices overlap, and Dan’s flush grows brighter under Phil’s gaze._ _

__“You go first,” Phil says._ _

__It’s slightly muffled by Dan’s apologetic “Sorry, go ahead.”_ _

__Phil takes a deep breath, opens his mouth just as Dan open his, both of them falling out of rhythm, clumsily either lapsing into silence or speaking at the same time._ _

__Phil says, “I’m sorry about what I said.”_ _

__Dan, at exactly the same time, tells him, “I shouldn’t have accused you.”_ _

__They pause, stare at each other. Phil laughs, a soft thing, and Dan matches him in tone, the sound of his laughter making goosebumps rise under Phil’s skin. He wants to reach out, instead holds his arms firmly by the sides of his body._ _

__Dan tilts his head, and Phil sighs._ _

__“You go,” he says._ _

__“Okay.” Dan says. Then, “I’m in love with you.”_ _

__Phil stares, heart leaping inside his chest, beating fast enough that he wonders how it’s possible that every single person on the lot can’t hear it._ _

__The odd reality of the moment is that Phil has thought of enough apologies to fill a whole book. He's planned different versions of what he'd tell Dan no less than a hundred times over the past few days, but when he opens his mouth now, heart in his throat, nothing comes out._ _

__Dan watches him for a moment, speaks again when Phil doesn't. “I’m sorry that I accused you of lying to me, it was unfair and I shouldn’t have. These past few days have sucked, I just couldn't stop thinking about what you said, you know, and I told myself it was true for the longest time ‘cause I’d heard it before."_ _

__"It wasn't. “Dan, it wasn’t true.”_ _

__“I _know_.” Dan’s voice is firm, his eyes bright. “I’m trying to tell you that I know that. I don’t even think–I kept thinking about it, then I started thinking about how you look at me, sometimes. All the time, actually? Did you know that? That whenever I looked at you you were already looking at me. Like. Like I was–”_ _

__“Like you were the best thing I’d ever seen. You are. You make me feel like--"_ _

__"Phil." Dan sounds breathless, leaning forward slightly even though he's still outside the trailer._ _

__"I don't ever feel alone when I'm with you, Dan. Or even just. When I'm thinking about you, and I'm always thinking about you, you make me feel like I won't ever feel lonely again."_ _

__"Do I?" Dan exhales, chews on his bottom lip, flushed in a way that makes Phil's insides feel like molten lava. "I don't want you to be alone, I always want to be around you. All the time."_ _

__"I missed you," Phil tells him. "I know it's only been three days, but I missed you."_ _

__Dan smiles. "Me too."_ _

__He tilts his head as Phil grins at him, the corners of his lips twitching up easily, his shaky hands stilling. Phil watches him back, catalogues the exact look in his eyes—almost overwhelming, fondness spilling over them both._ _

__He takes a deliberate step back, and Dan walks the rest of the way up, closes the door behind him. He leans against it, and Phil steps closer to him, looking up._ _

__"You haven't said it yet," Dan says._ _

__Phil doesn't. He leans forward instead, his arms finding each other around Dan's neck._ _

__He presses his lips against Dan's in a way that isn't at all careful, and Dan pulls him even closer by the waist._ _

__Dan kisses back for a blissful second, leans away from him to whisper, "I guess you don't have to."_ _

__"Yeah," Phil agrees. "But I'm going to anyway–I'm crazy about you.”_ _

__Phil feels Dan's exhale where their chests are pressed together, can feel the fast pace of his heartbeat. He's sure Dan can feel his, too. "I'm in love with you," he adds._ _

__Dan's grin takes over his features, and Phil doesn't get to say anything else because Dan is kissing him, pulling him forward, lips sliding softly against his, Dan's hands tight around his waist before they travel around his back. His touch is eager, and Phil drags his lips over to kiss the corner of Dan’s mouth when he pulls away to breathe, kisses down his jaw, his dimple, up to the tip of his nose._ _

__He presses kiss after kiss to Dan's skin, closes his lips against the side of his throat and sucks sharply. Dan sighs, the sound edging into a groan, so Phil does it again, and again, until Dan's hands are gripping him hard enough to sting._ _

__Phil pulls away. Dan looks flushed, and beautiful, and Phil wants him so much he can barely breathe around it. He pulls him in, wraps his arms around him carefully. Dan hugs him back, resting his head on Phil’s shoulder._ _

__“I like you so much,” Phil mutters against Dan’s skin._ _

__Dan squeezes him closer. “I know.”_ _

__–_ _

__The morning of Phil's last day on set, he wakes up with a numb left arm and dried drool on his shoulder. It's early–the sun is coming in through the window because they had apparently forgotten to shut the blinds the previous night. He can see the sweet array of freckles that cover Dan's face very clearly when he looks down. He looks warm, perfectly content, and Phil would take a whole life of drooling and numb arms if it meant he'd get to have this, too._ _

__Phil watches him, too fond for his own good, doesn't even bother pretending to be asleep when Dan's eyes blink open and peer up at him. He frowns. "Creepy."_ _

__Phil rolls his eyes, gets to watch Dan's lips curve up into a sleepy smile. He looks soft, so Phil presses a kiss to his forehead._ _

__Dan makes a noise in the back of his throat, is very clearly fighting a giggle when Phil meets his gaze._ _

__"Morning." Dan's smile grows brighter at the sound of his voice._ _

__"Your breath stinks."_ _

__Phil laughs. "So does yours."_ _

__Dan lifts his head to press his lips to Phil's before turning around to face the other way. Phil moves his arm in a sad attempt of restoring blood flow. Dan wriggles, so Phil moves closer to him, fits his body around Dan's. Dan presses himself back against him and Phil hums._ _

__"Can't believe this is your last day here." Dan sounds funny, neutral in a way that is too careful._ _

__"It was a good month," Phil says. Dan tightens his hands around Phil's. "And we'll see each other after you're done, right?"_ _

__"Back in England?" Phil has no idea what the right answer is. He thinks they're way past the point of pretending they're not all in, but there's something oddly fragile in the quiet of Dan's voice._ _

__As it turns out, Phil doesn't have to answer–they stay silent. Close together, Phil's legs bracketing Dan's, their fingers intertwined, his nose pushed against Dan's hair. His body alongside Dan's when Dan takes a breath, and he doesn't have to say a word._ _

__"Back in England," Dan repeats. "We'll see each other plenty of days a week. I'll take you on a date. To the arcade, buy you pizza afterwards."_ _

__Phil inhales, presses his smile against the back of Dan's neck. "That sounds pretty romantic."_ _

__"Yeah, well," Dan pulls Phil's arms more tightly around him. "Turns out I might like that after all."_ _

__"Something change your mind?" Phil asks._ _

__Dan turns to shoot him a look. Phil grins at him, and Dan narrows his eyes, "It's about to be unchanged if you don't shut up,"_ _

__Phil laughs. After a while Dan laughs too. They're going to be fine._ _


End file.
